


Three Days

by Amikotsu



Series: Whumptober Prompts [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Grief/Mourning, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Hidden Depths, Isolation, Late Night Writing, Loss, M/M, Not Beta Read, Realization, Sad, Secret Crush, Surprises, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: Team Minato returns from the Kannabi Bridge mission without Obito. Kakashi spends the next three days in isolation, trying to piece himself back together again. And then the strangest thing happens.





	1. Please Take Care of Him

Chakra exhaustion. He stared down at the diagnosis on his small chart, one eye closed, the other blurred with unshed tears. The rest of the clipboard was filled with information on his physical health and allergies. They'd examined his eye -- Obito's eye -- and Kakashi skimmed over those notes, because reading them took him back to the cave, and going back to the cave took him back to Obito's last words. Obito wanted to see the future with Kakashi, as if Kakashi would want to see a future without his annoying teammate, without the boy who had punched the sense right back into him. Chakra exhaustion. Kakashi brushed calloused fingers over the neat writing, pausing over a spot where the ink had smeared. He remembered little of the return trip; he'd passed out a few hours outside of Konoha, but he'd been gone, mentally, since he let go of Obito's hand. Kakashi closed his eyes and tried focusing on his chakra, grasping at the tendrils of other possibilities. Maybe the whole thing had been a nightmare. Maybe he hadn't completed the mission. But he was wide awake, and very present, which left him with no more possibilities. All he had was the crushing weight on his chest, the pain that grew with every breath. 

He'd had panic attacks before, right after his dad's death, so he recognized the beginning of the downward spiral. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, an erratic baseline for hearing that suddenly seemed absent; he felt as if he couldn't get enough air, as if oxygen eluded him. And then his hands started shaking, and the clipboard fell into his lap. He felt like the papers, bent at all the wrong angles, a mess held together by one thin strip of metal. He counted down from ten, trying to find some sanity in a moment filled with such chaos. The attack passed -- they always passed, each and every one -- and he leaned back against his two pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Obito probably would have mocked him or shaken him, just to draw the focus outward instead of inward. Kakashi needed that. He needed Obito. 

When midnight turned to one in the morning, Kakashi threw the blankets aside and crawled down the length of the bed to hang the clipboard in its proper place. He spotted his clothes on the table at the far end of the room, so he forced himself to his feet. The floor was cold, like ice, and every step sent a chill racing along Kakashi's spine. He hated hospitals. He'd always hated hospitals. He'd had to visit his dad there, and he remembered how helpless he'd felt, each and every time. People died in hospitals; people wasted away in hospitals. He hated hospitals.

Kakashi drew the white shirt over his head, careful not to disturb his mask, then he replaced the shirt with the torn, bloody shirt he'd had on the mission. He'd lost his dad's saber on the mission, and he felt its absence. The muscles in his legs still ached, as if his leftover adrenaline had turned to sludge. After he'd finished dressing, he collected his weapons and went for the window. He heard footsteps approaching, so he quickly shoved the window open and stepped out into the night. He walked down the building to the ground, then he continued on foot. He'd twisted his ankle, though he couldn't remember how he'd injured himself, and his head still ached, a mixture of chakra exhaustion and the lingering phantom pain from Obito's punch. Some part of him cherished the ache. He knew it was pathetic, but he allowed himself to cling to the pain, to remember Obito standing up to him, standing up for him. Obito had thrown his life away for Kakashi, and all Kakashi wanted to do was rescue him, drag him back from the afterlife, and yell at him for being so stupid and reckless and wonderful, things Kakashi suddenly appreciated. 

Kakashi had one hand in his pocket, the other carrying his pouches. The village still had streetlights to brighten the darkest sections of the village, but Kakashi relied on the quarter moon hanging overhead, the sliver of pale white guiding him to his empty apartment. Except it didn't. The moon led him in a different direction, toward a different home, Obito's home. Before the mission, Obito had discussed moving out of the district, to put more distance between him and his clan. At the time, Kakashi hadn't understood; Obito still belonged, whether he fit the mold or didn't fit the mold. He had something. Except he didn't. Kakashi stood outside of Obito's house, the house left to him by his late grandmother, and stared into the dark windows. 

A harsh wind cut through Kakashi, encouraging him, guiding him, and he didn't hesitate to circle around the house to get to the back door. The door was locked, but he easily broke into the home. He'd told Obito to change the locks, but Obito had put it off again, as evidenced by Kakashi's easy entry. Kakashi closed the door behind himself and slowly made his way through the dark kitchen. He should have gone home, but he'd allowed himself a detour; he'd allowed himself another moment of weakness. The home smelled like pine, and Kakashi followed the scent around the kitchen. There was a hint of something fruity at the sink, a scent he traced to the dish soap. Obito had washed the dishes and mopped the floor, likely trying to clean up before such a big mission. Kakashi had thought the place would be as messy as Obito's room, so he learned something new, something unexpected. Kakashi touched the dry draining board next to the sink. A few plates were still there, forgotten, perhaps in Obito's haste. Without thinking, Kakashi put the plates away.

Kakashi walked to Obito's room, quiet footsteps ruined by the occasional squeaky floorboard. In Obito's bedroom, there was a light stain on the carpet, and Kakashi remembered the day that had happened. Kakashi had caught Obito kissing the team photograph and Obito had thrown a cup at Kakashi. The window between them had stopped the cup, and grape juice splattered against the window and onto the floor. Obito had screamed in frustration and buried the picture under his pillow, then he'd raced out to confront Kakashi, attempting a quick tackle. Kakashi smiled at the memory. Kakashi had pinned Obito to the ground and sat on the boy's back until Obito finally tired himself out and surrendered. Neither one had discussed what had happened in the room. Kakashi knew how Obito had felt about Rin. She kept them together, the proverbial glue for their team.

Kakashi lifted Obito's pillow and found the team photo. The edges were bent and there was a crease down the center, but the most glaring thing about it was the absence of Rin. Obito had cut her out of the photo. Frowning, Kakashi lowered the photo and took another look around the room. He expected pictures of Rin, but the room was relatively tidy and the corkboard below the small windows on the far wall was bare. The pins stuck to the board were all near the top left. The photo Kakashi held had a tiny hole near the top, the size and shape of a small pin. The frame on Obito's bedside table was empty, so Kakashi took the photo and the frame, taking a moment to place the photo in the frame itself, then walked over to Obito's desk. The drawers were filled with old notes from their academy days, but there were drawings too. Obito was an artist, and Kakashi had never known. Oddly enough, most of the drawings were of the two of them. They fought in most of them, with Obito winning in every scene. When he found a picture with Rin, it was a team drawing, where Obito and Kakashi were squeezed together, Rin squished between them. And maybe they should have been that way. Kakashi had been a fool.

As cold and unapproachable as he seemed, Kakashi did treasure items. He cared about his father's chakra blade, even when he'd shut down regarding his relationship with his father, even when he'd been blinded by raw, indescribable emotions. He came to the realization that he needed Obito's team photo. He wanted nothing more than to draw every one of the boy's belongings to himself and stay there, if not forever, then for a days, months, or years. Kakashi reached up to run his fingertips over the cool metal plate concealing his left eye. He had a piece of Obito, but he would have given almost everything to have all of Obito, even if they sank to bickering, their fights always about the same root element. They cared too much, or they didn't care enough. Kakashi moved his fingers away from the cool spiral and gathered the drawings from the desk.

He found a cardboard box in Obito's closet. Kakashi emptied out the old training weapons, wooden kunai and dulled kunai joining another box of clothes the boy had outgrown, then he dropped the drawings and team photo into the empty box. Kakashi brushed over the clothes hanging in the closet, several shirts and jackets, all matching, hung in the center. Going through Obito's things felt wrong, but Kakashi didn't stop. Before he left the home, he'd taken the candy from Obito's kitchen drawer, lollipops and wrapped sweets joining the items in the cardboard box. He locked the door behind him, though he had the feeling he'd pay the house another visit sometime soon. Kakashi threw his pouches into the box and carried the box out of the Uchiha District. 

His apartment was closer to the academy, a decision that had been for convenience rather than actual preference. Kakashi had left his family home to rot. Somewhere, across town, the home waited for him, silently telling him to take all the time he needed, as long as he returned, as long as he didn't forget. Please don't forget me, the house whispered to him. And he couldn't forget, even after years of trying. He remembered how much that home, that part of himself, had meant to him. Obito had reminded him again, that solid punch easily pushing him back on course. He didn't know when he'd changed directions, but he found himself on a familiar path, a path he hadn't walked in so long, too long. Don't forget me, the house whispered, and he hadn't. 

At the front door, he had to set the cardboard box down to fight with the lock. He still had the key, since he hadn't found the nerve to throw it out, to lose it, but the lock hated him. Once he opened the door, the stale air seemed to rush out to meet him, mixing with the strong smell of honeysuckle, the smell of his childhood. He'd had the electricity and water turned off, so he had nothing but twinkling stars and that sliver of moon to guide him. He entered into the home, closing the door behind him, and left his sandals by the door. He greeted the empty home, as if he still had someone there to greet, then he walked to the front room, where he'd found his father all those years ago.

He sank down to the floor, the cardboard box joining him, and stared at the windows in the room. Between the boards lining the exterior of the windows, the moon greeted him, welcoming him home. Kakashi took the team photo from within the box and stared down at the faces. His team had slowly become his family, and he'd lost one, another family member, another person he'd allowed entry into his heart.

"Dad," Kakashi said aloud, as if his father were there, sitting with him, "this is Obito." Kakashi's fingers brushed over the image of the boy, hesitating over the goggles, pausing at the hitai-ate. "Please take care of him."


	2. You

Kakashi sat on the rooftop of his childhood home and watched the sun peek over the horizon. The morning was cool and clear, so he had a perfect view of the multicolored sky. The colors blended so well, colors shifting from one to another in a pastel swirl, as if someone had painted the sky. He'd been waiting there for an hour, give or take, since the clocks in the home had all stopped at hours and minutes that had passed, that had yet to arrive. He knew the hospital staff had discovered his absence, but no one had found him. He didn't want anyone to find him, not yet. He held tightly to the picture frame, grounding himself. When the colors began to fade, Kakashi placed the picture back into the cardboard box and left his sanctuary. He locked the front door, leaving the house of dust and stale air for another day, for some day. 

Early risers navigated the streets, though none of them stopped to bother him. He kept his gaze on the road ahead, ignoring the nagging feeling of eyes on him. He felt as if everyone knew about Obito; he thought that everyone should know about Obito. After all, next to Kakashi's dad, Obito was the bravest person Kakashi had ever known. Kakashi stopped outside of his apartment building, gathering the courage to push that thought aside, to bury it within himself for later discovery. He took his time climbing the stairs to the second floor, prepared to enter into his private space and lick his proverbial wounds. Two bento boxes sat outside of his door, both of them wrapped together in blue fabric, the fabric tied into a neat bow to create a handle. Kakashi stood there for too long, staring at the heartwarming sight. Sighing, he plucked the bento from the ground, placed them into the box, and produced the key to his apartment. He had to balance the box on his thigh to fight with his locked door, but it was nice to know that all locks hated him. 

His apartment didn't smell of honeysuckle and dust, though he did need to open the windows and air it out. Another time. Another day. Kakashi walked into the kitchen and placed the box on the counter. He untied the knot on the fabric, then he took the bento out and left them on the counter. He didn't have the energy to eat, even though he'd had far too much sleep. He felt tired, exhausted, and he knew he'd pushed himself too far, that he should have remained in the hospital. Kakashi locked his apartment door, grabbed the box from the kitchen, and carried it into the living room, where he deposited it on the coffee table. He saw a small card inside, something that must have been within the blue scarf wrapped around the bento boxes. 

"I'll be back to get these. The food better be gone," Kakashi read aloud, squinting at the writing. Legible. Smooth. Bright blue. "Rin," Kakashi sighed, dropping the card onto his coffee table. The front of the card had a small cat on it, which only reminded him of Obito. For some reason, cats had loved Obito; they'd followed him all over the village, and he'd fed them, which had only encouraged the behavior. Kakashi had found the whole thing ridiculous, at the time, but it suddenly seemed so endearing.

Kakashi removed his hitai-ate and dropped it onto the coffee table, then he curled up on his couch. He ended up on his back, one arm over his closed eyes, the other resting over his stomach. Obito had wanted to see the future with him. What kind of future did he have waiting for him? The team was short one member, a very important member, which meant that the Hokage had the choice between finding another member, whether permanent or temporary, or disbanding the team. He'd always mocked Obito for crying, as the boy would cry over the dumbest things, but Kakashi found himself crying then, as if someone had only just delivered the final blow. Before he had the chance to stop the tears, he heard someone knock on his door. His first reaction was to turn away, to shield himself from a door that wouldn't open, from a familiar face just trying to be there for him.

"Kakashi? It's Kushina," Kushina spoke, knocking once more. Kakashi scrubbed at his face, smearing fresh tears over his exposed skin, down over the mask concealing his face. He wanted her to go away. He grieved. He knew how to grieve. He had experience, more experience than he would have liked. "You can't just lock yourself away. Let us be there for you. Please," she tried again. He'd never heard her speak in such a manner, her voice soft but thick with emotion. Obito had been her favorite. Kakashi often found Obito helping her cook. They'd gotten along so well. 

"Give him time. He needs time," Minato said, announcing his own presence. 

Kakashi felt something tighten in his chest, but he resisted the urge to speak. He didn't want anyone seeing him. He didn't want them to see him falling apart, because he didn't fall apart. Logically, he knew Obito's death had widened an old wound, spreading the edges, digging deeper, down to the bone. He felt them leave, their chakra signatures like twin flames, one brighter, one calmer, but meant for one another. After they left, Kakashi must have dozed off, because he awoke to afternoon sunlight on his face, the heat inside his apartment leaving him sweaty and grumpy. He went to turn on the lone air conditioner in his main room, then he turned on the overhead fan. 

He sat at the kitchen island and stared at the two wooden boxes. Rin had prepared lunches for the team before, and he genuinely enjoyed her cooking. Part of him wanted to eat, but the thought of food also had him wrinkling his nose. In the end, he dug out a pair of chopsticks and cracked open one of the boxes. She'd prepared fresh fish and rice and vegetables. In the other bento, she'd included pickled plums, which she knew he enjoyed, miso soup, and eggplant. He sighed at her thoughtful gestures and ate what he could, then he spent the hottest portion of the day spread out across his floor, lying directly under the fan. He held onto the team photo, even though he didn't look at it, couldn't look at it. He asked himself what his dad would have thought of the team, but he answered the question rather quickly -- his dad would have loved Kakashi's team, especially Obito. Sakumo would have thoroughly enjoyed the bickering and Obito's endless determination; Sakumo would have loved the way Rin held the two boys together, encouraging them in everything they did. 

After dusk, Kakashi finally peeled himself off the floor. He collected the empty bento boxes, wrapped them in the scarf, and left them outside of his apartment door. He had one destination in mind, and instead of staying on the ground, he took to the rooftops. Below him, villagers traversed the streets, some of them gathering together in groups, others looking more like loners, something Kakashi understood very well. A familiar voice hollered his name, so he increased his speed. Of course the green blur followed, not taking the hint. On a good day, he might have entertained Gai, but not then. He didn't want optimism and vigor; Kakashi wanted solitude and understanding. He needed time. Kakashi dropped down between two buildings, the space barely wide enough for one person. He heard Gai shout his name, then he saw the boy run past the tiny pathway, oblivious. Kakashi turned and took an alternate path, a longer route he'd wanted to avoid. In the end, the journey didn't matter, just as the journey back from Grass country hadn't mattered. Kakashi saw the memorial stone in the distance, so he slowed his pace. He half-expected someone to be there, waiting for him, but the open space was empty. 

Hands buried in his pockets, fingers toying with pocket lint and the cloth lining, he walked right up to the stone slab. There were so many names, a lot of them new additions, but his eyes trailed down the lists to the bouquet of white chrysanthemums at the bottom of the memorial. A pair of orange goggles hung from the edge of the stone, as if they truly belonged there, just another extension of the stone. For some reason, Kakashi felt the familiar stirring of anger. He reached out and yanked the goggles from the memorial stone. He brushed a thumb over the crack running along the right side. Someone had cleaned the blood away, but Kakashi didn't like that the goggles had been left there, left to rot away, left to be forgotten. He kept the goggles in his right hand, while he traced over the names with his left index finger. When he found Obito's name, he bowed his head and closed his eyes, taking a moment to simply focus on the feel of the stone against his fingertip. Obito shouldn't have been there. He should have died, not Obito. Kakashi felt the warmth and sting in his eyes.

He stood there for an hour, fighting off the tears and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Obito had always been there, right at his side, even when he pushed the boy away. Obito refused to leave him alone. At the time, Kakashi had found him annoying; Kakashi had told Obito he'd never amount to anything. And then Obito had saved Kakashi's life.

"I'm sorry," Kakashi spoke, voice unusually hoarse. He sank to his knees before the stone, hand still outstretched to drag his fingers over Obito's name. "It should have been me. I shouldn't have left you. We should have done something, anything," Kakashi continued, clearly frustrated. He had goggles, ridiculous orange goggles that suddenly meant so much to him. He was falling apart at the seams.

"Kakashi?" Rin stopped, standing on the far edge of the clearing. She had a wrapped bundle of white and lavender chrysanthemums in her hands. Kakashi looked up from the flowers to meet her eyes, then he got to his feet and disappeared in a swirl of leaves. 

The walk home was a lot harder than he remembered, and the weight of the goggles dragged him down. Every step drove him further and further into the ground. He considered the possibility that he'd reach the center of the earth, that gravity and the weight of those goggles would take him there. Unsurprisingly, he found another wrapped bento box waiting for him outside of his apartment. He collected the bento and disappeared inside his apartment, seeking refuge within the dark interior. Kakashi left the bento on the kitchen counter and carried the goggles over to the coffee table, where he laid them in the cardboard box, adding them to his collection of things. 

"So this is you now? I've only been gone for a few days and you already miss me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia gets another chapter done!


	3. I Missed You

Kakashi jumped to his feet and threw a kunai. He took a step back, his back facing the living room windows, and he bumped into the coffee table. His legs hit the box and sent the box sliding off the edge of the table, scattering the contents all over the floor. Obito gasped and the kunai seemed to pass right through him. Kakashi heard the _thump_ of the kunai connecting with the wall behind Obito, the sharpened tip embedded into the drywall. Kakashi drew another kunai, but Obito threw one hand up, palm facing out in a sign of surrender. The other arm, or what was left of it, was in a sling, held tightly to the boy’s body. Kakashi opened his left eye, sharingan taking in the way Obito stood, the way Obito’s right arm twitched, along with the fingers on Obito’s left hand. Obito had terrible scars on the right side of his face, but the sharingan was still there, the red eye a perfect match for Kakashi’s, for the eye Obito had gifted him. Obito had died. Obito had been left to die. Kakashi took a step around the coffee table, slowly backing toward one of the front windows. Obito took a step forward though. For every step Kakashi took, Obito took another. Obito circled around the couch and Kakashi reached down for the window, fingers reaching blindly for the lock. He saw the way Obito looked at the papers, the way Obito looked at the candy, until that single sharingan eye settled on the cracked goggles. 

Kakashi had so many questions. How could he have let his guard down? How had the impostor gained entry into his apartment? The windows were locked. The door had been locked. Chest quickly rising and falling, Kakashi finally managed to turn the lock on the window and he jerked the window open. The night air rushed into the apartment, cool compared to the lingering warmth in the room. Overhead, the fan slowly turned; in the background, his old air conditioner knocked, unable to circulate the cool air, unwilling to work, which wasn’t a surprise, as it was bought second hand. Obito bent down to collect the papers, shaky fingers closing around the edges, trying to make sense of the mess. Kakashi threw the kunai, but the weapon seemed to pass right through Obito. The boy caught the kunai before it could cut into the couch cushion. Kakashi turned, one foot already outside, already free, but he felt an arm wrap around his midsection. Obito dragged him back into the apartment. Kakashi elbowed Obito in the gut and the boy grunted, though the arm remained around Kakashi. Again, Kakashi elbowed Obito, but the boy’s grip tightened.

“Stop hitting me!” 

Kakashi stomped on Obito’s foot and elbowed him in the gut once more. Obito turned and threw Kakashi at the couch. Kakashi slammed into the cushions, bouncing once before he rolled onto the floor. He bumped his head off the coffee table, then he hit the floor. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, until Obito’s head blocked his view. 

“Are you done now?” Kakashi grabbed Obito’s legs and jerked, sending Obito crashing to the floor. Obito hit his head off the corner of the coffee table, so he yelped and flailed his left arm, as if that would somehow help him. The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, both of them panicked, both of them filled with the rush of adrenaline. Kakashi turned his head, both eyes locked on the open window, but Obito’s feet were on his chest and the coffee table cut off his escape route. 

“You’re dead,” Kakashi said, as if the realization would make the moment easier. Obito grunted, clearly struggling to sit up. Obito pulled his feet away from Kakashi and wiggled, dragging himself into a seated position. Kakashi sat up, still wedged between the coffee table and the couch. “Tell me you’re dead,” Kakashi demanded.

“I’m not dead, stupid! I’m sitting right here. Do you see ghosts now?” Obito huffed at Kakashi, then he finished collecting the drawings from the floor. He turned the box over so that he could dump the papers back into the box. “Did you go through my house?” Obito sounded confused, and Kakashi felt the rise and fall of his chest; Kakashi chose to avoid the question, the silence answer enough for the Uchiha.

They sat on the floor for too long. Kakashi listened to the ticking of the clock, the wall clock in the kitchen marking every second of silence. The day had changed, as both hands of the clock were on the twelve, marking another day, marking the beginning of what promised to be the best day of Kakashi’s life. Kakashi had his hands in his lap, but he raised his eyes from his clasped hands and looked over at Obito. Obito stared down at the box balanced on his own thighs, taking in the contents. Kakashi noticed the stick poking from between Obito’s lips. Sometime during the silence, Obito had opened one of the lollipops and shoved it into his mouth. Kakashi heard the tiny click of the candy connecting with Obito’s teeth, then he heard a crunch. He hated when Obito chewed the candy; he’d complained about the noise on more than one occasion. Obito did it just to annoy Kakashi. He decided that Obito was sitting in his apartment, that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Obito looked up from the papers in the box and smiled at him, as if Kannabi hadn’t happened, as if the rocks hadn’t trapped Obito in the cave. As if they hadn’t left him to die.

“How?”

Kakashi started there, because he wanted to know -- no, he _needed_ to know. Obito’s smile dimmed and the sharingan disappeared. Kakashi found himself staring into Obito’s dark eye. Dirty bandages covered the left eye, the left eye Kakashi knew resided in his own head. Obito reached up to run a hand through his mess of dirty, greasy hair. Kakashi could smell him, the damp smell mixed with body odor, so Obito had been without a shower. Wherever the boy had been, he smelled musty, old sweat and blood clinging to him, where he usually smelled sweet, like the candy he insisted on eating. Kakashi had always teased him for the sugary smell that clung to him. Obito looked away, fingers leaving his hair. Kakashi knew that he’d asked the wrong question, as evidenced by the fact that Obito hadn’t answered. Kakashi moved closer to Obito. The boy had no shirt, so Kakashi saw the divide between something white and Obito’s pale skin. Kakashi touched the white and Obito flinched, as if expecting Kakashi to hurt him.

“Someone saved my life, and I woke up like this,” Obito said, moving the sling to draw Kakashi’s eyes from Obito’s chest. Kakashi ran a hand along the sling, seeing the same white material along the exposed portions of Obito’s right arm. Kakashi tried to touch Obito’s right arm, but Obito grabbed his hand and stopped him. “It’s new,” Obito explained and released the hold on Kakashi’s hand.

“Someone?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. Just leave it alone.”

“Does sensei know you’re back?” Obito looked away again, answering the question without really answering the question. Kakashi should have scolded Obito for choosing to visit him before reporting to the Hokage, but Kakashi didn’t want Obito to leave. Obito pulled the orange goggles from the box and stared down at them, as if he hadn’t seen them in years. “I did go through your house,” Kakashi admitted, voice quiet. Obito nodded, because he already knew that. They both knew that. Frowning, Kakashi moved to dig through the box. He pulled out the picture frame and turned it around so that Obito could see their faces in the team photo. “You cut Rin out of the photo.”

“Yeah,” Obito said, the word drawn out, as if Kakashi were the last one in the world to attempt to piece the puzzle together. Kakashi pointed to the photo, finger hovering over the empty spot where Rin should have been. Obito chuckled, a faint blush appearing on his dirt-smeared cheeks. “Why would I do that,” Obito replied, the words a question without being a question. Kakashi turned the photo around so that he could see their faces. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius?”

“People assume,” Kakashi answered, the words a reflex. He tired of people calling him a genius, calling him a prodigy. He knew his abilities; he knew his mind and body. He didn’t need the labels. At one time, maybe he'd needed them to fuel his own arrogance, the mask he upheld for everyone around him, but not anymore, not after Kannabi. Kakashi had lost Obito, and then he’d lost that mask. He had nothing shielding him from the outside world, nothing except for the flimsy cloth mask covering his face. “You wanted to see the future with me,” Kakashi added, trying to piece the picture together again. “Why would you give me your eye? You gave me your eye because I was promoted to jonin. That doesn’t make sense,” Kakashi continued, brows pinched, a deep frown on his lips.

“I was trying to sound cool,” Obito laughed, reaching up to run his left hand through his messy hair again. Kakashi looked from the photo to Obito’s face. “Do you remember when you caught me kissing the photo?” They’d never talked about that time, as if it had been some type of unwritten rule, but Kakashi nodded. Obito pointed to the picture. “Rin wasn’t in that picture, stupid.”

“Oh.” Kakashi put the framed picture back into the box and returned to his former position. Obito hadn’t been kissing Rin’s photo; Obito had been kissing Kakashi's photo. Kakashi didn’t know how to take that admission. The two sat there again, listening to the ticking of the clock, listening to the knocking of the air conditioner. “I missed you,” he finally admitted, responding to the first words Obito had spoken to him. Obito nodded, both of them knowing the words weren’t necessary. “You should report to sensei,” he said, saying something else they both knew, something that had been hovering around them.

“I will, but not yet.”

“You stink.”

“Sorry. They didn’t have a shower in the cave.”

Kakashi’s lips twitched for a smile, so he quickly looked away. When the moment had passed, Kakashi forced himself to his feet. He stood next to Obito and offered his hand to help the boy off the floor. Kakashi tugged him in the direction of the bathroom. All the while, they remained quiet. Obito always knew how to fill the silence; sometimes, the boy wouldn’t shut up. Kakashi remembered how he’d used to have to tell the boy to shut up. Right then, Kakashi wanted nothing more than to listen to Obito’s rambling. He wanted the endless stream of nonsense. Maybe they’d both changed. Kakashi stopped at the linen closet and retrieved a clean towel and washcloth, then he physically pushed Obito into the bathroom, shoving him toward the shower, encouraging him to wash the stench away. After the bathroom door had closed, Kakashi took a few steps back and rested his back against the wall. He slid down the length of the wall to the floor and covered his face with his hands. He listened to the sound of the water hitting the shower floor, then the following shout when Obito learned that the water was too hot. 

What was he doing? They should have rushed to the Hokage; Kakashi should have shoved Obito at Minato. Obito’s name needed removed from the memorial stone. Obito needed his hitai-ate back. And then Kakashi remembered Obito’s right arm, the fact that it was new, the fact that Obito only had one eye. Kakashi thought about the future, about their future. Kakashi was so used to being in control, to having multiple scenarios with varying endings, all so that he could maintain control. His life was out of control though. He’d never anticipated Obito’s return. He could have cried, he should have cried, so he did. He listened to the sounds of his apartment and cried. Obito was alive, and everything that had happened at Kannabi, everything that had happened following Kannabi, had been just a nightmare, the sadness a loop he’d finally overcome. Because Obito was alive.

The shower stopped, so Kakashi rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the last of his tears, wiping away all evidence of his crying. Obito cracked open the bathroom door and poked his head out. Obito had one hand on his towel, which he had pinched at his left hip. The sling was gone, revealing the pale white on his right arm. Kakashi had forgotten to give him clothes. Obito saw Kakashi on the floor and his curious gaze turned sad. Kakashi saw the moment when the emotion appeared, as if he’d known all of Obito’s expressions.

“Hey, can I get some clothes? I don’t want to walk around in a towel,” Obito trailed off, a partial smile on his face. Kakashi snorted and got to his feet. Instead of waiting for Kakashi to return, Obito opened the door the rest of the way and followed Kakashi down the hall to the bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints along the hardwood floor. “Your place is really neat. My place is a mess.”

“No it isn’t. You cleaned it before you left,” Kakashi answered, not missing a beat.

“You could tell?”

“It smells clean. You washed the dishes and mopped the floor. You forgot to put the rest of the dishes away, so I did.”

“You really weren’t doing well,” Obito mumbled, not intending for Kakashi to hear the words. Kakashi heard them though, and he agreed with them. He hadn’t been doing well. But that had changed. Kakashi stopped in the center of the room. Without thinking, he spun on his heels and drew Obito into a hug. Obito squeaked -- yes, he actually squeaked -- and lost the hold on his towel. Kakashi heard the towel hit the floor, but he only tightened his hold on Obito. “Kakashi, are you hugging me? I just need my towel. Just give me a second to,” Obito stopped, grunting as Kakashi tightened the hold again. “I can hardly breathe,” he managed to get out.

“Shut up,” Kakashi mumbled into his neck. Obito sighed and wrapped his arms around Kakashi, choosing that moment to forget about the towel, to forget about the Hokage, to forget about everything that had happened from the cave collapse to his return to Konoha. “You’re such a moron.”

“You don’t _have_ to be a bastard, you know.” Obito looked up at the ceiling, feigning irritation, even though he’d missed Kakashi, even though he’d missed their verbal exchanges. “Are you going to let me go?” Obito patted Kakashi’s back, another hint that the hug should have ended.

“Just a little longer,” Kakashi mumbled again. Obito tightened his hold, so they both held on tightly, so they both had nothing more than the hug. Beyond that hug, Kakashi didn’t know how to communicate how he felt, so he let the moment last, hoping that Obito could read him, hoping that Obito heard everything he needed to say in that single gesture. But the words came to him, slowly crawling out of the deepest recesses of himself, and he couldn’t hold them back. He didn’t want to hold them back. “I missed you, Obito.”

“I missed you too,” Obito said, the words just for Kakashi. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. So stop moping, alright?” Kakashi hummed, as if that were answer enough. Obito sighed, but he didn’t push Kakashi. “I missed you too,” he repeated, rubbing a hand over Kakashi’s back. And he had missed Kakashi, more than anyone would ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make a happy ending. There are lingering questions, like what happened with Madara and Zetsu. Initially, I'd planned on writing that out, but I'm so behind, and I prefer to focus on interactions between the two characters rather than exploring that route. I hope no one minds! :)


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